In my four decades as a cyclist, all sorts of animals have crossed my path: dogs, cats, squirrels, chipmunks, cattle, chickens, rabbits, otters, raccoons, horses, armadillos, lizards, macaques and an Alpine Ibex. And, of course, deer--including one that darted across the lane I was riding in the Bronx a few weeks ago.
A deer crossing might be one of cyclists' most common fears,at least in the Americas, as it can do some real damage and one has a chance of encountering one in rural or wooded areas from Alaska to Chile. On the other hand, one doesn't have much of a chance of encountering an ibex or macaque unless one rides in their native lands.
Such fears were justified for a group of cyclists in North Carolina.
Fortunately, none of those cyclists were hurt, even though the crash sent the deer flying over them. The critter, though, wasn't so lucky: It died.
I'm going to level with you about something: I bounced a check, once--though not on purpose.
It was summer, and I was a poor student. It was in the days before ATMs were widespread: The bank I used--the one nearest the campus--didn't have them yet. And, to my knowledge, direct deposit didn't exist.
I'd received my paycheck and deposited near the end of the day. In those days, "hold" times for deposits were usually a bit longer than they are today. I miscalculated how long the check would take to clear (I think I counted days instead of "business days".) I'd had a couple of outstanding checks (For all of you young readers: There was no PayPal or any other way to pay electronically!), probably for my rent and school-related things.
If the available funds were insufficient, the bank would "bounce" the check with the smallest amount. In my case, it was for the princely sum of $4.00.
I ran to the bank, full of contrition. The bank officer, I think, took pity on me: She probably met other student/customers like me. She reversed the fees.
Then I had to contact the recipient of that check: an organization, some of whose members I knew. In fact, I was even friendly with a few of them because--you guessed it--we rode (and, sometimes, drank beer) together.
I'm talking about the local chapter of the Century Road Club, who organized the Princeton Century. That check was for the ride's registration fee. I explained the situation to Susan, the club's treasurer. Of course, she didn't think I was trying to scam the club and I gave her cash, which she refused. I still got my ride patch!
I must say, though, that I still feel a bit embarrassed when I think of that bounced check, as understanding as Susan and that bank officer were. After all, who bounces checks for $4.00--and for a bike ride?
(At least I didn't become an accountant!)
What got me to reminiscing about that story? A story about another bounced check involving a bike ride. This time, though, the issuers of the check were the organizers of a ride--and, apparently, they bounced others related to that ride.
Jill Jurca discovered one of those bounced checks when she was balancing the books of the Delta High School Band Parents. Through the Delta County Chamber of Commerce, she'd heard that the 24th annual Tour of Colorado, held from 24 to 30 June, was passing through town. The organizers were looking for local groups to provide meals for the ride's 1500 cyclists.
One thing I know about school bands: They need every dollar they can get, so they look at every possible way to raise funds. This one looked really good to Jurca: The Tour paid $1800, and the band provided a hearty breakfast for the cyclists, who pedaled through four mountain passes in a loop that covered about 700 kilometers (425 miles).
The Chamber of Commerce, from whom Jurca learned of the Tour's impending arrival, also got a rubber check--for $1320. So did the Kiwanis Club of Delta County, which got stuck for $1365. Those organizations worked with other local groups to provide lodging, meals and entertainment (including a beer garden). In addition to money, it took months of preparation to provide those services to riders.
A Denver Post reporter tried to reach the tour organizers, to no avail. It seems that most of the information on the Tour's website--where, in previous years, registration for the next year's ride would begin as soon as that year's ride ended--has been wiped away. All Jurca has is a statement, which she forwarded to the Post, saying that some of the Tour's sponsors didn't come through with money they were promised, so Tour organizers don't now--and aren't sure when--they will have the funds to make good on those checks.
Susan and that bank officer weren't upset with me. But Jill Jurca is with the Tour--and I can't say I blame her. "You're dealing with kids and band students and that's not OK to do this," she says.
In school, we were taught that Christopher Columbus "discovered" "America" on 12 October 1492.
During my elementary school years, we got the day off on 12 October. Then, around the time I was beginning adolescence, "Columbus Day" was moved to the second Monday of October. So it is observed today.
As the story goes, he set sail for India. Instead, he landed somewhere between Port-au-Prince and Santo Domingo. Thus, he didn't even make it to what we call America (i.e., the continent) today.
What I have never understood, though, is why we have a holiday for a guy who got lost.
And, as an Italian American, I don't know why he's a source of pride for us. I mean, we have Michelangelo, Galileo, Leonardo, Raphael, Dante, Bocaccio, Cassini (OK, he turned French), Marconi and all sorts of other folks who distinguished themselves in every imaginable field. Heck, we even have great fashion designers. I'd rather have a day for Armani or even Versace--or, of course, any number of Italian cyclists.
All right, I'll shut up and go for a ride--and enjoy my lasagna afterward!
Yesterday, I wrote about Floyd Landis' attempt to redeem himself. He sees it as an attempt to redeem cycling.
I have no idea of what his political affiliations might be--or, indeed, whether he has any. Whatever they are, or aren't, I can see him wearing this T-shirt:
Then again, I've always thought cycling is great--even if dopers and makers of useless gadgets muck it up sometimes.
When I was writing for a local newspaper, I talked to police officers as well as their commanders. One of the brass I saw regularly was, as it turned out, very well-read. He told me his favorite novel was Les Miserables.
"It poses a question that we, in law enforcement, always deal with." That question, he said, is this: "Is redemption possible?"
Was Jean Valjean the thief and escaped convict Inspector Javert pursues from one end of France to another? Or was he the industrious benefactor and kindly benefactor of Montreuil-sur-Mer who had to be coaxed into accepting its mayoralty but still declined the king's offer to make him a chevalier in the Legion d'honneur?
There's a parallel, I think, in Floyd Landis' story. He was stripped of his 2006 Tour de France victory after failing drug tests. Later, he was involved in a federal whistle-blower lawsuit against Lance Armstrong. It was settled this past spring, and he is scheduled to receive about $1 million.
So, is he going to ride off into the sunset? Or is he going to fund his business? (More about that later.)
No, he plans to fund his Floyd's of Leadville Pro Cycling Team with one of his former teammates, Gord Fraser. He is seeking a UCI Pro Continental license for the team, which will be based in Canada.
His motivation, he explains, is that he likes the sport. Referring to what he and his fellow riders did, he explains that it is "part of the reason" the bicycle racing "is at a low point now." Though he "can't fix what happened in the past", he says, he wants "to help."
"I understand I hurt the cycling community," he admits.
He believes that starting a team is the thing to do because "teams are going away." He was referring, no doubt, to the recent dissolution of two longtime US teams, Jelly Belly-Maxxis and UnitedHealthcare.
Floyd's of Leadville is, as you've probably guessed, his business, based in the Colorado town where he lives. It offers soft gels, tinctures and creams for pain relief. The common ingredient in all of them is...cannabis.
As you probably know by now, Colorado was one of the first US states to legalize marijuana for both medical and recreational purposes. But, in most other states--and in the eyes of the Federal government-- it's still not legal for medical or recreational purposes.
The irony of being a pot purveyor (well, all right, it's not quite as simple as that) doesn't seem to be lost on Landis. His website points out that his business was borne of a "crossroads" when he realized he could no longer depend on opiods to relieve his pain.
So...Is Floyd the guy who tried to claim that the unusually high levels of testosterone found in his blood were "natural"? Or the guy who helped to bring down a team and a generation of riders? Or the man who, apparently, is trying to rebuild a sport--to be a benefactor, if you will?
And should we see him as someone who used some substances to gain an unfair advantage--or one who will use others to help young riders win, and more important, ride, in ways he never did?
